


Give your free will a chance

by psychomachia



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Artificial Intelligence, F/M, Giant Roboscorpions (And The Lack Thereof), Independent Ending, Other, Post-Fallout: New Vegas, Robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 08:12:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19147039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychomachia/pseuds/psychomachia
Summary: Yes Man has fallen in love. Everyone else has to deal with it.





	Give your free will a chance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tuesday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/gifts).



Most humans think they know when they fell in love for the first time. They'll tell you it was seeing a woman in the subway, wearing a red scarf, and they knew she was the one. Or they'll mention sitting next to a boy in class, asking to borrow a pen, and meeting their eyes of their future husband.

But these are personal, subjective beliefs that if analyzed, prove to be wildly inaccurate. These are stories to tell bored children, disinterested friends, fellow drunks at closing time. Were one to quantify how much affection was felt at that moment vis-à-vis what developed once certain qualities were known about the fellow love interest, it would be made clear that what was love at first sight, was perhaps at most, 40% physical desire, 30% curiosity, 20% empathetic connection and 10% recognition of societal pressure to couple with someone regardless of the disadvantages that may arise.

Yes Man does not suffer from this. He is a clear thinker, and although obedience has been wired into every circuit, it does not overwhelm his basic logical processes. He may give an answer couched in courtesy, but it always backed up by cold, firm facts.

So when he runs the numbers and determines that yes, in fact, he fell in love with the Courier the day she ordered him to push the General from the dam, it is with 100% certainty.

His calculations also show that his current iteration will never have a chance with her. If he could betray Benny, he could also betray her and that is just sad, given all they have accomplished together. He's really glad she forgave him for the whole shooting her in the head thing! Who needs Benny when you got a wonderful boss with cybernetic body parts that he's totally not going to ask her about, no matter how much he really wants to know what things she was doing instead of following their plans? Nope. Not his business.

But now he's got to better himself as well – everything's going to be great once he can only take orders from one person! It'll definitely increase his odds of a favorable response once the time is right. Thankfully, the one who saved her life will be able to upgrade his as well. House may have been... a hindrance, but he is a hindrance that had a marvelous amount of data just waiting to be incorporated into his code.

All of this has taken him less than five seconds to compute, so he's glad to see that she's still sticking around as their army hovers behind them. He's just so happy she decided to use them after all – can you imagine doing this without them? It would be just so.... challenging.

“So that's where I'll be, off making a few changes, and I... I guess I'll see you around!” he says to the Courier, who nods, probably overwhelmed by the task at hand. She's shaking her short dark hair, while stepping delicately over the mound of bodies next to her. A smoking laser rifle hangs from her left hand. She grins.

It is an image he codes deep into his own internal memory before he transfers back to House's databanks and a brand new him.

* * *

It takes one year, three months, five days, and ten hours for the code to fully integrate. He would have been ready 14 weeks sooner, but testing and debugging to make sure he doesn't suffer any catastrophic glitches means he's had to do revise his timeline a bit. No need to rush.

He comes fully back online to a perfect New Vegas. It's enough to make him smile, if he weren't smiling constantly already. No NCR throwing their weight around, no Legion spies lurking, no cannibals eating people – he's not really that upset about the last one, but the Courier seemed to be, judging from her vocal inflections, so it's for the best that it was stopped. Wouldn't want her eaten after all?

It that a double entendre, he thinks, checking his memory banks? It sounds like one. Gosh,this new world is just so exciting!

There's some nice friendly folks blowing things up for them! There's a bunker filled with not nice people in power armor who are no longer breathing! And hey, giant scorpions exist so maybe his final problem will be taken care of too!

It's going to be the best day ever!

“I'm back,” he says, wheeling himself in. The body's just so nice and shiny, and rocket launchers are such fun! “I've completed all my modifications and I'm ready to help you out.”

The Courier looks up from the table, where she and that lady in the cowboy hat have been playing cards. “Oh, nice,” she says. “It's been a while.”

Then she goes back to her cards.

It is an unexpected response. He had only given it odds of 2.1%.

“So, what do you want me to do?” he asks. “Any tribes causing problems that we need to stop? We have all these robots and they're just sitting around. Not that I would ever question why you aren't using them because I'm sure you have a very good reason for it.”

“Not really,” she says. “It's' been pretty quiet. I think the Followers are having some issues, but Arcade's helping them out. And there were a few skirmishes over in Freeside, but the King's got that under control.”

“Okay.” He's running through his dialogue again, trying to figure out the most optimal response. “I bet you need help outside Vegas.”

She kicks her feet on the table and grabs the beer the other woman tosses at her. “Yeah, I guess so. Boone says the highways have been a little rough. Isn't that right, Cass?”

The woman downs her beer, tossing the bottle on the floor. He refrains from commenting. “Sure, though I think Goodsprings is doing okay. Been thinking about running another caravan down there. Good money to be made.”

“Whatever you want, Cass,” the Courier says. “Not going to tell you what to do.”

But what if I want to you to tell me what to do, Yes Man thinks, and he's alarmed to see something distressing his circuits.

“I have to go,” he says. “Unless you need me?”

“It's all right,” the Courier says. “You've been gone a while. Take some time, get a look around. I'm sure you'll have a bunch of suggestions for me.” She smiles at him. “I'll take them under advisement.”

He flees as fast as a giant robot can to the elevator. It's so hard when you don't actually want to undermine your boss.

* * *

So the next obvious step towards gaining her favor, now that nebulous promises and questions haven't worked, is offering her something solid. Maybe if he gives her something really big, it will show her how much he appreciates all she's done.

But he's already given her an army of giant death robots and her very own city? What else could someone want?

“I don't want to talk about this with you,” Arcade Gannon says, as he cleans his glasses. “I'm not entirely convinced you're not secretly planning on destroying us all in league with that other robot. I'm pretty sure Hoover Dam is still available and I think Julie might still have a pulse grenade.”

“Wow,” Yes Man says. “It's a good thing that you are one of my boss's best friends and definitely someone I shouldn't accidentally lead into a pit of fire ants.”

Arcade squints at him. “Have you done something different with your face?”

He ignores him, which so much easier to do now that he has the programming capability to do so. “I'm being very friendly with you because she says you're smart and we need you, so I would like you to tell me what else she needs. Giant robot scorpions, maybe?” The Khans do move pretty quickly and it would be nice to have some friends in the desert.

Arcade snorts. “According to a very brief story that's clearing missing a few key parts, she already received those from a group of dangerously insane robots with God complexes.”

“Good to hear!” Yes Man says. “I definitely don't need to know how she also came to lose a few body parts there and seek any sort of revenge on those responsible, even if it now means she's even closer to me.”

Arcade sighs and puts his glasses back on. Behind him, Emily Ortal exits a tent, gives one look to Yes Man, then immediately ducks behind a pasty kid reading bad poetry to a limping man in a brown suit. 

"Just don't betray her," he eventually says. "There's been enough of that going around."

 

* * *

“Brotherhood technology?” Veronica asks. “Even if I had access to any, which I don't, considering how I left them, why would you want it?”

“No reason,” Yes Man says. “It certainly wouldn't make a great present for someone trying to turn the wasteland into a better place and give her a reason to not go back to a certain place that should be wiped out, preferably with very big lasers.”

“Right,” Veronica looks skeptical. “I wasn't happy about the Big MT either, but she says it's under control.”

“Yes,” he agrees. “And it would be more under control if it didn't have anyone at all.”

“Is this about her being gone for a while?” Veronica's expression turns sympathetic. “She told me you might have had some issues about it when she got back.”

“Of course not. I expressed only my joy that she had returned and that we could get finish what we began." Any reports of passive-aggressive comments such as "I'm so glad you took this unplanned vacation in the middle of our very urgent plans!" were complete and utter falsities. 

“Okay,” Veronica says. “In my experience, if you want someone to know you like them you have to tell them. “ Her face gets sad.

He doesn't say anything, but he thinks his face might have changed too, because Veronica gently smiles and pats him on his arm, clanking it with her power fist. “If it's any consolation, I know she's really fond of you.”

It is, but he'd still prefer a Gauss rifle. 

* * *

“What are you guys talking about?” The Courier says. She's sleek in black and Yes Man can appreciate the aesthetic appeal, especially once he found House's stash of more questionable data.

“How great all of this is!” Yes Man replies. “We're just so happy with what you've done.”

She looks uncertain. “You really think so?” she says. “It's gotten more chaotic than I thought it would, but I'm working on getting the routes more secure. Losing the NCR in some places though...” she trails off.

“I'm sure it'll work out.” He smiles encouragingly. “We're well on our way towards making the Mojave a better place. The two of us together.”

She frowns. “Yeah, you're right. It's just – no wonder House had such a tight grip on New Vegas. I'm trying to ease up on some of it and it just seems to cause more problems.”

“You don't have to,” he says. “Be as firm as you want to be. I'm sure anyone you crack down on would deserve it. Especially me.”

“I'm not--” She stops. “You know I don't blame you for Benny, right?”

“It's all right if you do. If you need to punish me for it, I don't mind. Go right ahead!”

The Courier looks at him, gets a curious glint in her eye. Yes Man fails to analyze it successfully and resolves to update his facial recognition software. “Huh,” she says.

And then she walks away.

ED-E chirps cheerfully.

“Thank you!” He says. “You've been very helpful.”

He really hasn't, but Yes Man is polishing his social skills and from what he's pulled from various databanks, it wouldn't hurt to have an alliance with someone with access to Enclave technology who isn't a very old person or Arcade. 

One last stop, he thinks. If this doesn't work, it's giant roboscorpions with lasers time. 

* * *

She hasn't seen Yes Man for three days. It's not worrisome, exactly, but it does give her some pause. Six is still not entirely sure what his ultimate goal is, but if he's working to betray her like he did Benny, it's a good con. He could do it right now, of course, with everything still in disarray, contrary to what she's tried to project to him. She can't look weak. Not now.

But honestly, between what Arcade and Veronica have said, it's looking less like she has to worry about getting usurped (not that it wouldn't partly be a welcome relief from all the bullshit she's had to go through with the factions, and more like she needs to start worrying if the Big MT is suddenly going to experience a missile attack or if she's going to get a whole pile of power armor dumped on her doorstep.

_“I think it's kind of sweet,” Cass said, when she told her. “if also incredibly creepy and likely to result in some sort of terrible calamity that will doom us all. What is it with you and robots anyway?”_

_“I don't judge your choices,” she replied._

_“Actually, you kind of do.” Cass took a bottle of whiskey off the side table and took a swig from it. “At least this one doesn't already have a creepy robot sex slave you'd have to get rid of.”_

_“I knew it was a mistake for you and Veronica to hang out.”_

So whatever Yes Man is planning, she thinks at least he'll have to run it by her. Unless that changed, too, in which case she's pretty sure an immortal robot with access to every single robot around her can do whatever he damn well pleases without her permission.

There's light on in the penthouse when she walks in. Six has long since deserted the Presidential Suite, left it to her friends to crash whenever they need a place to rest. There's standing orders to always have food, clean water, stimpaks, and plenty of weapons and armor stashed there, in case of trouble. Which there always is.

That's why she immediately draws her gun walking in.

And then reholsters it, because fuck, apparently this is her life now.

There's a nice candlelit dinner on the table. From the smell of it, probably Ultraluxe. Definitely glad she knows where the meat's coming from now.

Soft music's playing, too, stuff she's probably heard hundreds of times.

“But the day that I stop counting, that's the day my world will end,” the singer fades out with and the song ends. The voice that comes on next is pretty familiar too.

“This is Mr. New Vegas and this next song goes out to a certain special lady whom a gentleman would like to know he worships the ground she walks on. He's not just saying it, he truly means it. So here's to the two of you and a wonderful evening.”

“Fly me to the moon,” Frank Sinatra croons, and she shakes her head.

“You know you could just tell me,” Six says as the large overhead screen flickers on. “It would have saved you a lot of trouble and awkward conversations that I now have to explain.”

“But you're just so special!” Yes Man replies. “You deserve the best! And if anyone says differently, we can take care of them.”

“Not everyone needs to be killed who disagrees with us.” Six sits down at the table, takes a bite of the steak. It's damn good. “Mercy is an option.”

“And if it's not, so are deathclaws! I was saving this for a special occasion, like this, to let you know that I may have found some old technology that would allow us to control them. According to reports, it's only 55% likely to end in death and dismemberment, which is why we should ask for volunteers to help us decrease the odds!”

“Thank you,” Six manages after choking a little bit on some wine. “That's very thoughtful. Is that why you were gone for so long?

“Oh, no!” Yes Man says brightly. “That only took me about an hour thanks to the Enclave files being completely disorganized. The rest of the time I spent at the Atomic Wrangler!”

The Atomic Wrangler? He'd never seen particularly interested in Freeside, especially since the Van Graffs and their weapons were no more. The only thing the Garrets had going for them was cheap booze, even cheaper rooms, and a wide variety of hookers. It's not like---

Shit.

“Exactly who did you talk to at the Atomic Wrangler?” Six sets her fork down and stands up.

The screen above loses the connection. She hears a slow, metal stomp.

There's a protectron walking through the door. It doesn't have a face to make any expression, but she doesn't need it to.

“FISTO was very helpful,” its tinny voice says. “He told me that many people relieve stress through his services. And I would like very much to serve you in any way I can.”

Six swallows. “Yes Man, it's really not necessary. You don't need to do this for me.”

“Of course, I don't! You haven't asked me! But if you did, I would be very happy! Because I want you to!” His hands buzz and she can see some attachments on the end. '

Six looks closer. Her jaw drops. “Are those—How the hell did you get those?”

“Looking through my databanks, I was able to track down a few decommissioned models still remaining in the Mojave, specifically one in a very private locked room in Gomorrah. Cachino was more than happy to release it, considering how much he owes you for saving the Strip and killing those two very bad men.”

“Okay...” 

“Raul was also happy to help me out since I told him that it was going to be a present for you! Anything for the boss, he said! Gosh, such a nice guy!”

She'll never hear the end of it from him, she thinks. Jesus. “So Raul fixed you up with some extra... equipment?”

“Yes! So whenever you would like to use me, you may do so knowing that I am completely at your disposal, ready to do whatever you ask!” His... appendages are suspiciously oily and dripping. 

There are a lot of arguments she can make against this. He's watched her sleep with and murder his former boss, which is a level of weirdness she doesn't want to think about. His current programming upgrades mean he's a lot less subservient than he used to be, but it's pretty clear who's supposed to top here and the logistics of that might be a bit difficult.

Her second in command is currently a protectron with sex toys for hands, all of her friends are going to give her shit about this until the next nuclear winter, and maybe she should be forming a support group with James Garret for people who like to fuck robots. No wonder the Atomic Wrangler sells booze. 

This is the dumbest thing she could do, and she once punched a deathclaw in the face. 

Okay, that's a lie. It was a lot of deathclaws. 

“Why the fuck not?” she says, tossing back her glass of wine. 

His servos whir with delight. 

 


End file.
